


A Perfect Winter's Night

by Inner_Devil



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Complete, Ficlet, Hyde Park, M/M, Oneshot, Snow, Snowball Fight, Walking, one chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 16:46:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5593552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inner_Devil/pseuds/Inner_Devil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John are walking home from having just solved a case and Sherlock won't shut up about it. So John takes things into his own hands, silencing the man with a snowball. A snowball fight ensues and the men end up soaked with snow. Read to see where they go from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Perfect Winter's Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [17-steps-to-221b (221B_Boyfriends)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/221B_Boyfriends/gifts).



> For 17-steps-to-221b.tumblr.com :)

After chasing a group of serial killers disguised as door-to-door salesmen through London in the snow at 2 am, John was beyond exhausted. With the random icy spots on the sidewalks and snow everywhere, he could hardly keep up with Sherlock as the taller man darted about the city and chased after the criminals. But they had finally caught the swindling serial killers and turned them over to Lestrade and his team to be dealt with. Now they, much to John's relief, got to go home. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been awake for so long, but he was definitely ready to go to sleep and get some peace and quiet. But Sherlock seemed to have other ideas.

"The murderers are finally coming out again. Oh, John, it's Christmas!" the lanky detective proclaimed joyfully. It had been his idea to walk home in the freezing cold at 2 in the morning. John was about ready to murder the man himself. 

"Keep your voice down, Sherlock. People are t-trying to sleep," John stammered softly, teeth chattering a bit in the cold. He wrapped his arms around himself a bit, trying to keep warm.

"Why would anyone want to sleep, especially now?!" Sherlock asked incredulously, as though everyone in the world had just been chasing criminals and should be wide awake. Sherlock was filled with his usual post-case high and hardly noticed that he was disturbing anyone else.

"Because it's two in the bloody morning!" John snapped. "Come on. Why can't we just catch a cab home?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, labeling the question as too dull to dignify with an answer. He continued walking and just babbling about the case, going over details and the "beauty and complexity" of the murders and heists. Eventually, John decided he'd had enough. They were walking through Hyde Park at the moment and there was plenty of snow everywhere. So, smirking a bit, the shorter man stopped, bent down, and gathered some snow into his gloved hands. He packed it tightly into a snowball like he'd done as a child, took aim, and fired it, hitting Sherlock square on the back of his shoulders. John couldn't help bursting out laughing as the detective suddenly stopped talking and turned around, brow furrowed. 

"Why did you do that?" the brunette asked in confusion.

"Because it's funny! And it got you to shut up for a moment," John told him with a grin. "It's a snowball fight, Sherlock! Come on!"

He started gathering more snow and forming more and more snowballs, throwing them at the lanky, pale man. Sherlock eventually caught onto the idea and started forming snowballs of his own, launching them at John. He missed a couple of times, but soon developed a mental formula for his aim. He managed to hit John perfectly each time afterwards, not that John minded. The pair attached each other with snowballs, darting through Hyde Park in the cold, early morning. Had anyone seen them, they would have thought the men were mad for acting like children when sane people were asleep.

After slipping over ice and hiding behind trees as they attacked each other with snow, the two men were practically frozen. They ended up laughing together as they walked home, both soaked with snow as they made their way back to Baker Street. They finally reached home around 3 am and let themselves in. 

"Get out of those clothes, Sherlock. I'll make some hot chocolate for us," John told him, getting out of his own soaked clothes. He went to his bedroom to change into pyjamas and assumed that Sherlock would do the same. But when he came back, Sherlock was sitting on the sofa in nothing but a sheet.

"Sherlock. Put your pants on," the sandy blonde sighed. "No hot chocolate unless you put your pants on right now."

"Pants are impractical and constricting. I can heat my entire body completely and equally without clothes on," Sherlock reasoned, but pouted when John threatened not to make hot chocolate. "Fine," he muttered, going to his bedroom and putting on a pair of pants. "Better?" he grumbled when he reemerged.

"Much. Now go sit down while I make some hot chocolate for us," John told him with a smile.

He knew Sherlock loved hot cocoa, so the hint at not getting any would get him dressed. John went to the kitchen and made them some hot chocolate just the way he knew Sherlock loved it. It took a bit of time, but he eventually emerged from the kitchen with two mugs filled to the brims with hot chocolate. 

"All right, here it is," John announced, bringing Sherlock his mug and setting it on a side table by Sherlock's arm chair. Noticing it was far too quiet for his taste, John put in a film for them to watch.

"How the Grinch Stole Christmas?" Sherlock commented, raising a brow. "A bit stereotypical and irrational, don't you think John? Especially considering that, if the Grinch were real and his heart grew, it would result in cardiac arrest and he would have died rather than simply succumbing to societal convention and ideas of Christmas?"

"Oh, hush! Just enjoy a sweet Christmas film," John insisted, taking his seat and enjoying his hot chocolate. Unlike other times, Sherlock actually did fall silent this time, just letting John enjoy the film. The pair drank their hot chocolate together and eventually ended up asleep on the sofa, John wrapped in a mess of tangled limbs from Sherlock. They slept through the night like that, telly and mugs forgotten as they instead occupied each other's dreams. A perfect winter's night for the boys of 221b.


End file.
